eat bread or dream choose mother famished & restless his breath all worth it
he is teaching me to breathe/ to cry without reserve/ everything I am/ he becomes/ he has come here with purpose/ he is greater than me/ this swings my chin upward/ his heaven self/ the way his lungs ring against the walls/ I bow to him/ a master/ showing me silence/ leading me into the arms of myself/ his air is new/ shallow/ quick/ frightened/ he doesn’t yet know/ this life is long/ or maybe it is I with the ignorance/ taking my time to purpose/ to love/ to release ego/ maybe it is his pace I should walk/ be as direct/ food/ rest/ comfort/ love/ he is teaching me to breathe/ in/ out/ hold/ release
she feels guilty abt the touching. i dont. we all choose. i chose. here. her. her. him. that. i look at it from a distance. like it happened to sum.one else. i wonder more abt what made him reach out.
what is arousing in purity. in the dew. may.be i still smelled new. like heaven. he wanted to remember the one.ness. god. michael. gabriel.
i remember i was a rocket. blown open from waking. running. laughing. swinging myself like a bell from every neck that wld let me climb. kissing every brown place available to summon joy.
i was in luv w/ them all. same. big. fast. may.be it was too much. he hadnt been loved like this. i remember his mother (vaguely) his grandmother (stroked) i was the same bark color. the same bend & beauty. yet, untainted.
in my eyes, everything he said was perfect, funny, timed w/out effort. a hero daily to be greeted & held. to listen to & to tell.
there was no talking like in tyler stories. no warnings. no sinister nature. just a touching that felt hot & backwards. a sly movement that sent me flying away. not everyday. somedays. not all the time. on time.
i am not angry at the touching. i still let him kiss me on christmas. i keep casual conversation. i want to know more.
what makes u move into the pockets of an 8 year old. what is the nature of that mind. there is so much good in the worst of us. she told me. i want to know the good in the worst. there is so much bad in the best of us. she told me. i want to see what drives us from hell to the backroom.
there is no blk or white. he is no villian. im happy i was unprotected. it allows me to see the gutted eyes & put lite there. it bonds me to the broken.
i am whole in my desire to want to know. want to understand. where does ur mind go after that. do u bend ur knees in shame. do u justify. do u blame.
give me the unknown.
Malcolm. Forever. Power.
All that you touch
All that you Change
The only lasting truth
EARTHSEED:THE BOOKS OF LIVING
—Octavia E. Butler (Parable of the Sower)
i stopped writing when i stopped bleeding.
if i write of my joy, will u still luv me?
in sedona, i saw our potential as beings is beyond our comprehension. to see such beauty, such pure color & majesty. these mountains just ARE. no excuses, no fear, no drama. they are on earth, loving out loud.
anything & everything before me, reflects me. to have my eyes take in such a huge display of divinity was humbling, to say the least.
i have never felt more inspired in life or more alive w/ intention. i left there w/ a promise to myself to live the glory of my purpose.
no photo can capture the power of standing next to these red rocks. go.
“i am fascinated by & respect the world of the unwanted, the unloved, the unaccepted… imperfection has great credibility. it is a world we all have within, it’s just that what is seen is the opposite of this. we are terribly imperfect, but maybe that’s what makes us bearable.”
our dented corolla took us to the top of the hill. i was confused abt the address. in the comfortable silence of lovers who have spent years shaking on & off our akward, we sat beside a pond. there was a lotus there. dingy. perfect. my heart outside my chest. only in wreckless painting & overzealous photograph had i experienced its beauty. there was something more basic abt it than the “spiritual” had led me to believe. in that moment, i knew god looked like me.